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Folds of Darkness
folds of darkness by firey --darkness of reality / book one-- ---- chapter one-- If someone told you your world was going to explode around you, would you believe them? Especially if the last time the palace had burned was when it was first created, when the Great Fire ravaged through the entire territory of Katala? Well I didn’t believe them. I’ve gotten plenty of death threats from suitors who don’t get what they want. Stars, as if I care. But three days after I was told the news, the world exploded all right. Smoke fills the air and the screams are unavoidable. Cats run around the forest, trying to get away from the fire and failing miserably. Everything is on fire and the only way out is through it. I haven’t moved from where I am. I’m not sure where I can go. If I move, surely the fire will swallow me up anyways. Finally I inch my way forward, past the stone walls that shelter me. I could either stay here and wait for the fire to stop, or I could risk my life and find a way out in case this was like the Great Fire all over again. Screw the fire, I’m not staying in this tiny den and hoping for my own survival. My luck isn’t that great. The heat blasts me in the face and I curse. I find a sturdy tree near the edge of the burning flames and begin to climb. It’s all or nothing; this fire is never going to die on its own and spare the palace. My wits is all I have left the survive. The flames lick at my pelt but I keep climbing. No way was I going to die now, pitiful and in scraps. I study the ground around me. Flames are racing up the tree at an alarming rate, and if I don’t get off soon, I’m going down with this stupid tree. But the land just beyond the flames... Screw justice and logic. I take a flying leap, soaring right over the flames that roar at my belly and land just next to the wall. Heat engulfs me and I gag, rolling away from the impenetrable wall. “Good going, Arya,” I mutter to myself, “you got out of the burning palace, now what?” It’s not a very intelligent question to ask myself, as the palace is still on fire, and the screams from inside are sickening. But what can a mere servant do against the fierceness of the flames? Die I guess. I pick myself off the ground and tell myself that there’s nothing I can do. I force my paws away from the burning palace and head for the shelter. My paws tug me towards there against my will. I’m not too ready to face the royal family once more, who probably expected me to die at the heart of the fire. No doubt they were the first ones to safety, before the fire spread throughout the entire palace. (It’s designed to be a large camp within the main camp of Katala.) The Queen is the snobbiest cat in the world. The worst ruler I will ever know. She could care less what happens to her cats, as long as she and her petty little daughter is safe. Thirteen moons and princess of Katala, there’s the little princess. Kara is her name, though I suppose I should call her Princess Kara. She’s not so bad, but I can never look her in the eye and pretend that she’s not who she is. Of course, lucky little Arya (that’s me!) gets to serve as their loyal servant of all times. My mother was a peasant who never told me who my father was. She said he just disappeared one day, probably took off in search of a better life. She sent me running for the palace as soon as I hit six moons. Ignoring the fact that the entire palace is on fire, most of the servants came out intact. The rest of the crew perished in the fire. The shelter is a good distance away from the infernos of the flames and I find myself bustling about, making the place comfortable for little thirteen moon old Kara and her mother, the glorious Queen. Stars, I hate them all. The problem about them is I know the truth. I know the stars-ridden truth and nobody else (except my father) knows. I remember that day as if it was yesterday. He confronted me, eyes shadowed, as I was clearing out the old bedding. Said he was my father, and before I confront him about the fact, he told me a dreadful secret that I had to keep quiet about until the right time. Long story short, he told me he was the king of Katala and I was the true heir to the Katala throne, although due to some complications, the Queen was now in power and her daughter (my half-sister; because who cares how my father got back in the palace to have kits with the current Queen...) is now the heir of the throne. Incompetent cats they are, and apparently I’m supposed to seize the power back for my father and for my own lost title. Okay, going back to the palace being on fire. Nobody knows what caused it yet, but I’m pretty sure it’s not a repetition of the Great Fire, which had been caused by natural sources. No, this had to be done by a cat. A smart, deceiving, cunning little rebel. “Arya,” Kara flounces over, “can you gather a few more feathers for my nest?” I bite back a stinging retort about how she has enough feathers to make a bird in her nest and that if I was in her position (which I totally should be), I would suck it up and deal with it. I gather a few more feathers and stick them in her nest just to please her. I swear, she acts like she’s five moons old. More and more chores fill my day and by the time night falls, the glow of the flames had died down and only the smoke filled the air. The Queen and the princess had settled down and the servants are the only ones awake, dusting the floors and cleaning the debris that had been carried with us from the crumbling palace. When I finally hit the nest assigned to me, I fall asleep almost immediately, my eyes too tired to stay awake, my paws too tired to keep me going. Tomorrow would bring something else. ~ More screams fill the air. I’m tired of cats screaming their heads off. Yes, the world is dying around you. Big deal. Okay, maybe it’s a big deal when you’re surrounded by a bunch of fierce looking toms with claws sharper than you’ve ever seen. It’s a big deal when they have their claws to Kara’s little throat--although I wouldn’t mind them going right ahead with what they’re threatening us with. The Queen is cowering behind her guards. I wrinkle my nose in disgust but focus my attention to the invaders. “We want two cats,” the lead tom growls, “this little brat and a she-cat named Arya.” I nearly choke on the breath I’m holding. The Queen’s eyes dart around, though she obviously doesn’t recall my name. The other servants are watching me however, and soon all eyes are on me. “That would be me,” I mutter, “but I don’t like the sound of going anywhere with her.” Someone prods me along. I join the ranks of the rebels, though nobody threatens me with claws or any of that sort. “Wait!” The Queen cries out, “Leave my daughter here.” “That won’t be necessary,” the lead tom snorts, “she’s one of the two we want.” The Queen’s eyes flash with anger, and she steps forward, but a yelp from Kara stops her in her tracks. I search the proud she-cat for any signs of affection and worry for the princess, but I only see frantic anger and desperation for the wrong thing. Why is Kara so protected if the Queen has no love for her? But then we’re marching away. I’m not sure where we’re going, as I’ve never actually explored the main camp. But we’re no longer in the main camp, I realize, we’ve exited quickly and entered the forest, or wild territory. Territory that cannot guarantee your safety because rebels and rogues roam the area. Which makes sense for a group of rebels I suppose. Kara is bleeding from several shallow wounds and she’s whimpering. “Treat her wounds,” the lead tom snaps at me, “we can’t have her bleeding over everything and leading a trail right to us.” “I don’t know anything about herbs,” I mutter, “I clean stuff.” “You clean stuff?” He echoes, “Analus speaks too highly of you.” “Don’t you have a medic?” I ask, completely confused. “Yes, but she’s back at camp,” the tom says impatiently, “this brat is bleeding all over the floor to lead a trail to our camp.” “Use cobwebs then,” I shrug, “cover her wounds so the blood stops. I can’t guarantee it’ll save her from infection but at least it’ll stop the blood.” The lead tom rolls his eyes, “See if you said that instead of trying to sass me, we would be out of here by now.” “Sorry,” I huff but we move on anyways. I find out fast that my sarcasm isn’t appreciated. But it’s always been the one thing saving me from the boredom and hardships of serving the royal family. It also keeps me from strangling them. “Place the princess in a highly fortified prison. We will deal with her later. Lead this she-cat to a regular den and explain to her how this place works.” The lead tom barks orders at several cats once we arrive at a very camouflaged camp. “Come on,” a golden tom looking my age beckons to me. He has warm, amber eyes, with a sturdy frame and lean body. “So, this place like a survivor camp or something? What’s with all the trees and cover? Do you guys hate the sun or something?” “It’s called protection,” the golden tom laughs, “in case you haven’t noticed, the royal family of Katala hates our guts.” I don’t, I think, but I hardly count. “Oh really,” I roll my eyes, “okay, fair point on the protection part, but do you really think the royal guard will miss five cats standing guard outside the camp?” “I can assure you there’s no one there,” the golden tom shrugs, “they’re trained to be hidden.” “Yay for them.” The golden tom’s whiskers twitches, “I’m Carlos. I was born into the rebel camp. My father died from injustices in the main camp and my mother decided to have her kit in the rebel camp she found after my father’s death.” “Where’s your mother now?” “Dead,” Carlos says flatly. “Sorry,” I find myself saying, “that must be...hard to deal with.” “I manage fine,” Carlos mews, his eyes pinned to me, “Anyways, the way this camp works is that each section has their own job. I’m still a recruit-in-training, so I’m not anything special.” “I got that part.” Carlos narrows his eyes briefly at my retort but I ignore him. “The leader is Analus, but we haven’t seen him in awhile. The second is the black tom who you saw giving orders earlier, Spence. Right below him are the front guard, soldiers trained to be the first troops in an invasion. Fast and quick, they are hard to spot and catch. Next are the defense troops, who help defend the camp and our stand in invasions. They’re usually the second lines. The last is the messengers, who do the hunting and such. I’m training to be a messenger.” “Wow, aren’t you special.” “This is serious,” Carlos mews quietly, “I know you think this is a joke, but we’re trying to do something serious here. In case you didn’t know, the she-cat we brought in with you is the princess of Katala.” “Of course I know that,” I snap. Carlos’s amber eyes stare back at me coolly, “Well, act like you know it then.” I stare back at him. “I’ll guide you through the process for the week and then you can choose your job, though I suspect Spence will want you on a special assignment.” Carlos turns his back on me, “You can take or leave this chance because it’s the only one you’ll ever get.” chapter two-- Category:Fanfictions Category:Firey's Fanfics Category:Darkness of Reality (Series)